I Love You
by K3IR
Summary: He can't help but think that in the line of duty, those words are taken for granted. One-Shot.


**This is written for Chocolatemilkahh, who is awesomely adorable! :3 (and a lovely human being who has been waiting forever for this).**

**I also intended this to be written and done nearly two weeks ago, but with my procrastinating skills and writers block; I only just finished it... YOU'RE WELCOME! :P**

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0000

They were surrounded, under heavy fire. They both knew that the possibility for either of them coming out of this alive was slim.

They were hunkering down behind a shipping container, thugs from different cartels all around, machine guns, pistols and assault rifles sounding off and echoing about the docks in the late afternoon light.

They called for back-up five minutes ago. Who knew five minutes could feel like three hours?

"If back-up doesn't get here in the next three point five seconds, we're not leaving here unless we're wheeled away on gurneys." He states, checking his magazine before clipping it back into his gun.

"I know." He doesn't think she's looked or sounded more scared than she is right now.

"I love you."

"I know." She looks at him this time, eyes pleading that this won't be their last fight. He leans across, the hand that isn't cradling his gun rests on the side of her head, tips of his fingers threading through her hair and his thumb caressing her cheek, "I love you too."

Those words are his breaking point. He crashes into her with a force that's sure to leave her lips bruised; it's a frenzy of arms, hands, lips, teeth and tongues. It's passionate, and although inappropriate, it's right for this moment. The gunfire and cursing around them fades out, it's just them, and their own little passionate, blissful bubble. It's not until the familiar voice through a bullhorn pulls them back out and into the harsh rays of reality, do they get a bitter reminder of where they are.

"_S.F.P.D. put down your weapons!" _Anders' voice booms.

He takes a quick look at her, her hair dishevelled, lips red and puffy and her eyes that seem to be seconds away from tears. He thinks that the universe must have some serious issues with him to put either one of them in a situation like this.

He hears the clatter of guns being dropped. Not thinking, Natara's the first to get up and walk around the container; mistake number one.

It happens too fast yet too slow at the same time. There's a gunshot, then a bullet, and then Natara's lying motionless on the gravel. He hears Anders' yell out, another gunshot, this time from Jeremy's gun, it rips through the thugs head, dead before he hits the ground. It's unfair, he thinks, his partner suffers while the man who had just shot her didn't even know what hit him.

Her eyes are darting all over the place, a few tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes, down the side of her face and into her hair. She's looking at everything but him. He can hear the wails of sirens as an ambulance makes its way down through the labyrinth of shipping containers and officers arresting cartel thugs.

"Keep your eyes on me, Nat, come on, keep your eyes on me." Panic's evident in his voice as her blinking becomes hurried and her eyes slowly glaze over. He can see his distraught reflection in her eyes, the tears that stream down his face drop and mix and mingle with hers, racing down and into her hair.

"Come on, Nat, fight. Fight Natara. Please," he sobs, "I don't wanna lose you." His anxiety levels rising, he can't help but shake her a bit; he hears the ambulance finally approaching. He thinks now would be the time that he'd announce his undying love for her, how she makes him whole.

Like in the movies; but this isn't the movies.

"Oh my God…" Blaise mutters running from around a shipping container, witnessing the blood loss. Her face visibly pales; her hand comes up to smack over her open mouth. She wants to cry, she wants to run to Natara. Jeremy stands behind her as paramedics rush in past them, his gun holstered as he puts a hand on the small of Blaise's back, nudging her to look away. She can't look away though, it's like a moth attracted to light, or a deer caught in headlights, she wants to look away, but she can't. And she hates it.

"We need to get Mal away so he can let the paramedics work…" Jeremy whispers in her ear.

She's still unable to talk, just nods and slowly makes her way over to the emotional lump that is Mal Fallon.

"You need to let these guys work Mal…" Blaise's voice comes out hoarse. She watches as he shakes his head like a three year old whose mum just told him to go put something back in the store. "Mal." She says firmly this time.

Natara's still breathing, her eyes are still open, he takes that as a good sign and so he lets himself be carried off by Jeremy and Blaise, his hands covered in crimson red blood; Natara's blood.

0000

3 hours ago, Natara got carried into surgery.

30 minutes ago, the doctors kicked him out of the hospital, telling him to go home and clean up, that they'll call him when anything changed.

3 minutes ago, he walked through his front door, emotionally drained.

He's standing in his apartment, Colt out doing whatever Colt's do, Denni at work, and Natara being butchered by surgeons.

Everything in the apartment screams her. He needs to get her out of his head, half an hour, that's all he asks, just make her stay out of his head for half an hour; except he can't. Her blood's still staining his hands, dry and crusty. He walks into their bedroom, stopping in front of the mirror he notices that he's got a large patch of her blood on the front of his shirt. He couldn't get the piece of clothing off fast enough, he rips at it; buttons fly and scatter the ground around him as his shirts flung cross the room.

He turns back towards the mirror; he's not use to seeing himself look so lonely. It's been Mal and Natara, Natara and Mal for about a year now, relationships with others aside. The serial killer A-team, skilled Profiler, relying on her books and brain, tough Detective, relying on his gut and resources, they're a duo; they have been for a while. He can't go back to being a solo act, doesn't even want to think about it.

He looks back on all those romance books that his mother made him read to her, or the romantic movies that he'd take his high school dates on, the one thing those books or those movies had in common, was when the lead actor or main character lost their significant other, they described themselves as being empty, a part of them missing. He made fun of them, describing and complaining to his friends how dramatic and sappy it was. It isn't until now, while his best friend, his partner, his _girlfriend, _lays alone on a hospital table, being cut into, that he realizes how right those movies and books were.

0000

"Relations of Natara Williams…"

8 people fly off their chairs, bleary eyed and tired. Kai and Amy left the lab as soon as they heard, promising everyone that they wouldn't leave and that they'd call with any new news. Raj and Anita had sped across town in a very expensive limo that was now occupying four parking spots and Neha had caught the fastest busses that this city owned to make it to the hospital. Blaise and Jeremy finished processing the scene as best as they could until the rest of the lab geeks came in to clear anything that was missed. After Mal threw his shirt across the room, changed, and had a moment to re-evaluate his life, he'd gotten back into his car and had driven back to the hospital.

"Uh… alright than," the doctor comes over to the group, "there were some complications with her surgery, she flat lined on the table; twice." Mal's face drains of any remaining colour he might've had, "she pulled through, though. Luckily she got a bed in ICU right after her surgery, she'll stay there for a couple of days, she'll then be moved to a more private room where she'll stay until the end of next week, after that she'll need to come back to have her stitches removed."

The tension in the room instantly vanished, everyone felt as if they were able to breathe again.

"Is she allowed visitors?" Mal pipes up.

"She should, her drugs from the surgery should be wearing off, two people in the room at a time though, we don't want to overwhelm her," with that, the doctor smiles and walks off.

Mal looks to Anita and Raj, then to Neha, waiting for them to make a move before he did anything.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Fallon?" Raj looks to Mal, eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you want to go see her first?" he asks incredulously.

"The doctor said she'll be fine, you go in first." The smallest of smirks appears on Raj's face before Mal puts his hand on the small of Neha's back and guides her down the hall.

"Don't you want to see her alone?" she asks, trying to keep up with Mal's pace.

"It's fine, you go in first, I'll wait in the hall." He reassures her, giving her a small push into the room.

0000

Neha walks out of the room fifteen minutes later, furiously wiping at her nose and dabbing at the trail of mascara down her cheeks. They share a smile and a nod, before she heads off towards the bathroom and he walks into her room.

The only light in the room is the small one above her bed and the moon outside her open window; it casts an eerie glow in the room. She's so pale, she looks so fragile. Of course he'd never tell her that, bed ridden or not, she'd still find a way to sever limbs if he ever said it out loud.

"Hey," she greets hoarsely, smiling weakly.

He nods and manages a small smile, sitting in the chair beside her bed, "you scared the hell outa me today."

"I know."

"I- we almost lost you."

"I know."

"There was so much blood…"

"I know."

"Would you stop saying that?" he looks up at her then, his eyes teary, burning holes into hers.

"What else do you want me to say?" she asks, going back to fiddling with her hands.

"I don't know…"

They share a silence, it's long and awkward, both trying to keep their gazes on anything but each other. The tension in the room is still unbearable when the silence is broken by a night nurse walking into the room to check on Natara's vitals, then leaving as she quickly as she came.

"When do I get to leave?" she asks, her voice small, partially due to the fact that she hasn't spoken in over five hours.

"When you're better,"

"I'm better now." She states, she's getting angry.

"You have a newly patched up _hole_ in your stomach, you _just_ came out of surgery _an hour ago. _No. Y_ou aren't better now."_ He doesn't mean for his voice to come out in a harsh whisper, but it had the desired effect on her.

They both lock eyes, hers are narrowed slits as are his, their chests rising and falling fast with anger.

"Your parents are outside; I'll go and let them know that you're awake." He turns on his heel, making it to the door before he hears her quiet, broken voice, pleading, _Mal._

He can't walk away from her, it's impossible.

Stalking back over to her, he brings his hands down on the guard rails on either side of her bed, lips smashing against hers, not as passionate as the one they shared earlier, the one that seems a life-time ago, but one that's full of promise and _love._

He breaks for air, forehead resting against hers as he moves both his hands from the guard rails to cup her face.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

0000

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**Blah… I liked the start better, I was much more confident with the start, the ending sucks and I don't like this one-shot anymore! D:**

**Anyways, reviews are welcomed and rewarded with cookies! Yum ;P **


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